Before he was Pope Benedict XVI, or Cardinal
Joseph Ratzinger, our new pope was a young Bavarian seminarian. In his
autobiography, Milestones: Memoirs 1927-1977, Joseph Ratzinger recounts his ordination on the Feast of
Saints Peter and Paul in Freising, Germany, in 1951, and his first years as a
parish priest and then completing his doctorate while teaching at the seminary.

We were more than forty candidates, who, at the
solemn call on that radiant summer day, which I remember as the high point of my
life, responded “Adsum”, Here I am. We should not be
superstitious; but, at that moment when the elderly archbishop laid his hands on
me, a little bird—perhaps a lark—flew up from the high altar in the
cathedral and trilled a little joyful song. And I could not but see in this a
reassurance from on high, as if I heard the words “This is good, you are on
the right way.” There then followed four summer weeks that were like an
unending feast. On the day of our first Holy Mass, our parish church of Saint
Oswald gleamed in all its splendor, and the joy that almost palpably filled the
whole place drew everyone there into the most living mode of “active
participation” in the sacred event, but this did not require any external
busyness. We were invited to bring the first blessing into people’s homes,
and everywhere we were received even by total strangers with a warmth and
affection I had not thought possible until that day. In this way I learned
firsthand how earnestly people wait for a priest, how much they long for the
blessing that flows from the power of the sacrament. The point was not my own or
my brother’s person. What could we two young men represent all by ourselves
to the many people we were now meeting? In us they saw persons who had been
touched by Christ’s mission and had been empowered to bring his nearness to
men. Precisely because we ourselves were not the point, a friendly human
relationship could develop very quickly.

Made strong by the experience of these weeks, on
August 1 I began my ministry as assistant pastor in the parish of the Precious
Blood in Munich. The greater portion of the parish lay in a residential suburb in
which intellectuals, artists, and high government officials lived; but there were
also rows of houses belonging to employees and people who worked in small shops,
as well as butlers and maids, who in those days belonged to wealthier households.
The rectory had been built by a famous architect. It was homey but too small, and
the great number of people who came to help out in various functions often
created a hectic atmosphere. But the important thing was my encounter with the
pastor, good Father Blumschein, who not only said to others that a priest had to
“glow” but was himself a person who glowed within. To his last breath
he desired with every fiber of his being to offer priestly service. He died, in
fact, bringing the sacraments to a dying person. His kindness and inner fervor
for his priestly mission were what gave a special character to this rectory. What
at first glance could appear to be hectic activity was in reality the expression
of a continually lived readiness to serve.

I surely was in need of such a model,
because the load of tasks assigned to me was great. I had to give sixteen hours
of religious instruction at five different levels, which obviously required much
preparation. Every Sunday I had to celebrate at least two Masses and give two
different sermons.
Every morning, I sat in the confessional from six to seven,
and on Saturday afternoons for four hours. Every week there were several burials
in the various cemeteries of the city. I was totally responsible for youth
ministry, and to this I had to add extracurricular obligations like baptisms,
weddings, and so on. Since the pastor did not spare himself, neither did I want
to, nor could I spare myself. Because of my scant practical training, I had at
first some difficulty with these duties. But soon the work with the children in
the school, and the resulting association with their parents, became a great joy
to me, and the encounter with different groups of Catholic youth also quickly
generated a good feeling of community. To be sure, it also became evident how far
removed the world of the life and thinking of many children was from the
realities of faith and how little our religious instruction coincided with the
actual lives and thinking of our families. Nor could I overlook the fact that the
form of youth work, which was simply a continuation of methods developed between
the two World Wars, would not be able to deal with the changing circumstances of
the world we now lived in: we simply had to look for new forms. Some of the
insights that came to me as I experienced these changed conditions I gathered up
some years later in my essay “The New Pagans and the Church”, which
at that time triggered a lively discussion.

My assignment to the seminary at Freising, which my
superiors decided would begin on October 1, 1952, aroused various reactions in
me. On the one hand, this was the solution I had desired, the one that would
enable me to return to my theological work, which I loved so much. On the other
hand, I suffered a great deal, especially in the first year, from the loss of all
the human contacts and experiences afforded me by the pastoral ministry. In fact,
I even began to think I would have done better to remain in parish work. The
feeling of being needed and of accomplishing an important service had helped me
to give all I could, and this gave me a joy in the priesthood that I did not
experience in so direct a manner in my new assignment. I now had to give a series
of lectures to the last-year students on the pastoral aspects of the sacraments,
and, although the experience I could draw on was rather limited, at least it was
recent and fresh in my mind. To this was added work in the
cathedral—liturgical services and hours in the confessional—as well
as the responsibility of a youth group started by my predecessor. Above all I had
to complete my doctorate, which at that time was no mean proposition: in each of
eight subjects I had to pass a one-hour oral examination and complete a written
examination, and the process culminated in an open debate for which I had to
prepare theses from all theological disciplines. Especially for Father and
Mother, it was a great joy when, in July 1953, I walked across the stage and
received the cap as doctor of theology.

For more about the life and work of Pope Benedict XVI/Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger, including a complete
list of his books published by Ignatius Press, visit
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